


Dancing Lessons

by i_know_its_0ver



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-24
Updated: 2011-04-24
Packaged: 2017-10-18 14:51:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/190017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_know_its_0ver/pseuds/i_know_its_0ver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin gets a very awkward dance lesson from Arthur.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dancing Lessons

This, Merlin decided, had to be some cruel new form of torture dreamt up by Uther’s deranged mind. It had been presented in terms of a reward, but then again so had his position as Arthur’s manservant, and that was about as far from rewarding as Merlin could imagine.

Yet here he was, in the little free time remaining after a long day of shining and mucking and washing, learning to _dance_ , of all things.

It had come in the wake of Merlin’s role in Arthur’s confrontation with his father, after their fateful meeting with Morgause. As a reward for his services rendered to the realm and to Arthur, Uther had invited Merlin to a small banquet being held in honor of the local lords. For once, he was to attend as a guest, rather than a servant. Which meant that he would be allowed to eat and drink all of the wonderful things he always secretly drooled over as he laid them in front of his prince. He would get to sit back and enjoy the singers and poets brought in for entertainment, rather than stealing glimpses from his usual post in the corner.

Oh, and he would have to dance.

It seemed that a few traditional dances were customary for these types of events, and the local lords used it as an opportunity to throw their daughters in the way of the prince or other young nobles, hoping to strike an eligible match. Merlin was pretty sure none of those noble young ladies would be looking to throw themselves in his way, yet Arthur had insisted that he must dance at least one or two rounds, lest he appear rude and boorish. Which, Arthur conceded, was really quite true, but the local lords’ daughters didn’t need to know that, since it would reflect poorly on Arthur himself.

The problem was, of course, that Merlin didn’t know any dances. He knew a few country reels from the village festivals back in Ealdor; large, informal group dances that were more about shared joy than precision and decorum. Somehow he doubted the fine ladies of the court would find those up to par. Best not to test that theory, lest Arthur finally make good on his repeated death threats.

When Arthur had insisted on lessons Merlin had been sure he would rope Morgana or Gwen into administering them. So he was duly dumbfounded when he turned up to the small spare chamber and found Arthur waiting for him, tapping his foot impatiently and looking rather put out.

“You’re late,” he grumbled as Merlin entered, “though I would expect nothing less from you.”

Merlin flashed one of his little grins that was part apologetic but mostly just amused. That seemed to be his automatic response to Arthur’s half-hearted scoldings.

“Sorry, had to help Gaius with some…things.”

Arthur waved his hand dismissively, not caring for another of Merlin’s wild excuses, which usually involved something outlandish, impossible, disgusting, or all three. “We don’t have much time, the feast is tomorrow night. Have you got my tunic washed yet, by the way? And I hope you remembered to order your formal clothes. There’s no way you can show up dressed like _that_.” He made a broad gesture towards Merlin, who wasn’t sure exactly which part of himself was the source of the prince’s disdain this time.

“Yes and yes,” Merlin replied, choosing to ignore the implied insult. “I went with blue because Gwen says it looks very becoming on me,” he explained, but Arthur cut him off.

“I don’t care what you girls gossip about, _Mer_ lin. Are you here to learn to dance or to talk about fashion?”

“Um, dance?” Merlin replied. He had actually begun to wonder what he was here for. He had never imagined that Arthur would be his teacher, and he was still waiting for one of the girls to appear from some hidden corner. But Arthur was the only one there, glaring at Merlin’s hesitant expression.

“ _You’re_ going to teach me?” Merlin asked, to confirm his suspicions. Maybe Gwen was waiting outside, until Arthur had finished his little warning speech about honor and pride.

“Do you have a problem with that?” Arthur asked, arms crossed against his chest, in the same tone he used with soldiers who challenged his authority.

“Nope,” Merlin replied, shaking his head with his best innocent expression.

“Right, let’s get this over with,” Arthur mumbled, mostly to himself. “We’re going to go over the main dance you will be expected to perform. I know this will be hard for someone as clumsy as you, but at least try to keep up and not shame all of Camelot.”

Merlin rolled his eyes at the dry sarcasm. He doubted he could shame _all_ of Camelot, even if he were the worst dancer in history. Which was entirely possible.

“You’ll be the girl—stand there,” Arthur ordered.

Merlin arched one eyebrow, in his best imitation of Gaius. “Why am I the girl?”

“Because you obviously are. I’m not being the girl,” Arthur replied defensively, as if such a thing were unthinkable.

“But how am I to learn to dance the man’s part if I have to be the girl?”

“Just watch what I do, idiot. Do I have to explain everything to you?” Merlin wasn’t really sure that would work, but since Arthur didn’t seem about to budge anytime soon, he let it go. If all else failed, tomorrow night he would at least be able to dance as a competent young lady. Because that certainly wouldn’t be embarrassing or shameful…

“The dance starts with a bow to your partner,” Arthur began, demonstrating. Merlin hastened to copy the gesture, knocking his forehead clumsily against Arthur’s in the process.

“Ow! What do you think you are doing?” Arthur scolded, reeling back with a hand to his head. All Merlin could do was mumble a sheepish apology.

“Please refrain from doing that tomorrow night. If you give some poor girl a concussion her father will probably have you thrown in the dungeons.” Merlin was pretty sure Arthur was exaggerating, but then again he had seen nobles overact on slight provocation before. The gleam in Arthur’s eye told him the prince would be only too willing to assist. It was probably best to err on the side of caution, then.

“Right,” Merlin repeated, “no headbutting ladies. Got it.” This earned him one of Arthur’s ‘I may be slightly amused but that doesn’t mean you’re not still an idiot’ smirks.

“Now, you place your hand here.” Arthur took one of Merlin’s hands and placed it on his shoulder. The other he took in his own hand, holding it out to their side. He placed his free hand lightly on Merlin’s waist. The smaller boy jumped at the unexpected contact.

“There?” he asked nervously, gesturing with his chin towards Arthur’s hand resting on his hip.

“Yes, of course, idiot, where else would it go? Don’t go getting any stupid ideas, you have to at least pretend to be a gentleman.”

“Right, no groping,” Merlin added to his list of pointers. Arthur almost laughed at that one, but caught himself.

“For God’s sake, Merlin, stop slouching like that! What kind of lady walks around like a hunchback?” Merlin rolled his eyes but did as he was told, straightening up as best he could, though it was still far from Arthur’s regally perfect posture.

“The man leads, so I always move first, and you follow my direction. Got it, or is that too difficult for you?”

Merlin gave him a cheeky grin. “I think I got it.”

“Good, now let’s give it a try.” Arthur took a step forward, but Merlin failed to react quickly enough and almost toppled backwards. Arthur’s hand on his waist steadied him and held him upright.

“You can’t be serious?” Arthur groaned, pulling him back into position.

“Caught me off guard is all,” Merlin explained.

“Are you ready now? Would you like me to give you a countdown or something?”

“No, no, I’ve got it this time, go ahead.” Merlin set his face in determined concentration.

This time when Arthur took a step forward Merlin mirrored the action. He made it through several more steps before his coordination deserted him and he tripped over Arthur’s foot. This time it hurled him against Arthur’s chest, nearly knocking them both over.

“Tell me, Merlin, were you actually born with two left feet? I don’t see how you could have survived so long with such a impediment.”

But the insult was missing the usual hint of scorn, and Merlin could feel a tiny ripple of laughter escape from the chest he was still pinned against.

In fact, he noticed only then that he was still leaning against Arthur, his face pressed into the hollow of his neck, one hand still on a broad shoulder, now gripping it tightly for balance. Arthur’s hand had moved from Merlin’s hip to the small of his back, pinning him in close while supporting him. Merlin suddenly realized the intimacy of their position, and couldn’t fight back the blush creeping up his neck.

He cleared his throat in what he hoped was a tactful gesture to bring Arthur’s attention back to the situation at hand. It worked.

“Uh, right,” Arthur muttered, the closest to flustered Merlin had ever heard him. He released the brunette, pulling him back into their original positions. Merlin felt Arthur’s fingers slide over his back as they found their way back to his hip and he shivered involuntarily. He hoped that Arthur wouldn’t notice, and if he did he chose to let it pass without comment.

It took a lot more stumbles and false starts, but eventually Merlin was beginning to get the hang of it. There was a rhythm to the movements, a pattern to the steps that Merlin finally seemed to tap into. It would have been a lot easier if Arthur had explained that from the beginning, but Arthur was a man of action, after all. Why explain when he could demonstrate, teaching through trial and error. And there was certainly plenty of error to learn from.

As their movements became more fluid Arthur seemed to relax. The fewer mistakes Merlin made the fewer taunts he received, and eventually Arthur even seemed to be _almost_ smiling at him, and even managed to laugh off a few of his smaller missteps.

Merlin, for his part, was impressed with Arthur’s dancing. He knew the prince was strong and powerful, he had seen that in the time they spent training and hunting together. But somehow he managed to harness that power into the graceful movements of the dance. It was a bit mesmerizing, in fact, to feel that focused power flowing in time with his own awkward movements.

“Well, I think you’ve finally got the hang of it,” Arthur announced, after what seemed an eternity. He released his hold on Merlin, and Merlin reluctantly dropped his own hands. It felt strange to be apart after being in close contact for so long. Of course, that’s all it was, he had just grown used to it. He had to fight back a disappointed frown nonetheless.

“Now you bow again,” Arthur instructed, this time giving Merlin a stern glare that reminded him not to repeat his earlier mistake. Instead Merlin dropped a sarcastic curtsey, sticking his tongue out in a decidedly unladylike manner. Arthur just chuckled and rolled his eyes.

“And then, you thank your lady for the dance.” He bent over to grab one of Merlin’s hands, bringing it to his lips for a soft kiss.

The gesture shocked Merlin so much that he couldn’t react. He meant to laugh it off, to respond with some sarcastic remark, as usual. Instead he just gaped, his hand tingling and his cheeks burning. Arthur froze with the hand still in his grasp, looking up at Merlin. Merlin’s reaction seemed to affect him as well, because suddenly his cheeks were mirroring the brunette’s flush. He dropped the hand, and belatedly tried to play it off as a joke.

“Well, that is what you would do if you were dancing with a lady, and not a clumsy oaf of a manservant who can’t tell right from left.”

“Right,” Merlin nodded, adding to his mental list, “don’t kiss manservants.”

Oh. That hadn’t come out right. Merlin was blushing up to the tips of his ears now, cursing himself for his stupid inability to think before he spoke.

Arthur made a choking sound and Merlin looked up to see him desperately trying to hold back a very undignified burst of laughter, but it was no use. It escaped like an explosion, wracking his whole frame as he bent over to try and catch his breath, the laughter spilling out loud and raucous. Merlin held out for about half a second before he joined in, releasing the tension that had held his body rigid in embarrassment.

Finally Arthur seemed to collect himself, remembering that he was a crown prince and should not be losing control in front of others. The laughter subsided into shallow giggles as he took a few deep breaths, straightening himself. Merlin followed suit, though had a harder time keeping a straight face.

“Yes, Merlin,” Arthur said, “that is probably a good idea.” He moved as if to leave the room, but stopped next to Merlin, clapping one hand on his shoulder.

“Most of the time,” he amended, placing a quick kiss on Merlin’s temple, before sauntering off toward the door. Merlin couldn’t even blink, never mind move to follow his master like a good servant.

“You did well,” Arthur called back, “…for an idiot.”

That broke Merlin out of his daze, but all he could do was smirk in reply. He may be an idiot, but at the moment he was pretty sure he was one of the happiest idiots in the kingdom. Maybe still the worst dancer, but definitely the happiest.


End file.
